A Plague of Locusts (And The Door Won't Close)

One of them stirs, and the rest then take flight.
A difference of words: and the world is candle light.

If one is for all, then all is for none!
Common enemies will move ahead.
If one is for all, then all must move on!
The countryside has seen its last sunset.

Ripple effect.
They're going, spreading outwards.
Gathering force.
Nothing can stop them from...
becoming...

a horde! a plague!
write your words down to uphold your sway!
a horde! a fake!
withering leaves will not stop all your teeth.

Pair of Dimes Paradigm

Walking to run- a paradigm
of progress. We run
before we walk, sometimes.
I'll slow my speed
to mark what I pass;
to gather up leaves:
a new sight for sore eyes,
oh, open at last.

I won't blink, then,
for days and days:
a newborn man-
had lost his way.
How do I love?
Let me count the ways.
What was once lost
is now found and safe.

Globes in the Graveyards

Bandaged wounds bleed, though out of sight.
A dying lung breathes: despite all its plights.
And just like the rain: we'll soften the ground.
With our marching refrain; with our voices unbound.

Shadows will fall as the sun sets,
the chips will then fall upon the hedge bets.
Roads are not...roads are not...
concrete! Concrete!
-our roads are of bones!-
Defeat! Defeat!-
we cower in homes;
oh, we cower alone.

Grand Theft Arson

Recognize-
that we are not on track;
see the lies-
for what they stand for.
The straws that are breaking our backs.
The garbage...washing up on our once-clean shores.
Pulling the weight for those who lack
the will to try for themselves anymore.
For those who take... and never give back:
we're wising up- we're onto your plans.

Fires left burning by moonlight,
left burning for others to find and put out.
Fires left burning by oversight:
grand theft arson- noone to be found.

Why?
Because we didn't know anything else.
Lies-
used to get what you needed, for yourself.
Why?
Because you must not know anything else.
Lie-
one more time; we're used to it. It sells.

Sunsets Before Breakfast

Give me a name
so I may wear it upon my sleeve.
Show me the cure
so that I can glimpse what I
can't
have.
What I want to have.

Solemnity
a gift in ignorance;
I know how this works,
and I'm not falling for it again.
Sobriety,
an awakening by choice.
I lift up my words,
I become a choir with one voice:

Hear us now,
hear us, we beg:
the sun will go down
but we'll still live for today.

Follow to Fail

Follow to fail. We are children: where is our mohter? Where is our home?

Reading the book the author has wrote;
pen left on ice- the soul wanders, broke.

Leading to try, we are able to soar.
Hopeless as whales, we yearn for the shore.

The Best We Can Do

What is there to call safe and sound? To call home? Familiar? Any place able to be labelled as 'found'?

Who am I save for bones and skin? An attemptee? A failure? A 'once-was' kid?

Shine all the light in the world upon questions, and see for yoruself that there are no answers. No satisfaction, we'll be alarmed but not surprised.

Shine all the light on this earth, should you ever get a chance to, upon the night sky; for hope of catching a reflection from God's very eye.

And hallow as the ground may be that we tred; I feel no thing partial to the soil; I do not deny my broken bread.

I sustain my body. I do as seen fit.

We all do the same. We all paint the same pictures; sad tales of loss and of then finding our way; tales that lead to gain, lead a tired soul to exclaim: "Dear God, I am happy!" in those brief moments in our lives (Dear God, I'm not happy.), only to be rained upon in short time.

But the best we can do is take the good and the bad like the sun takes the rain: and make something beautiful.

Leaders to Liars

It started with a flash
that quickly turned to smoke;
reminiscent of the past
and all the lies that you spoke.

Coax the herd;
poison the feed.
Sell the cure;
harvest the need.

A cook and a vial,
a need and a choice;
poured in the poison
and took away their voice.

Shepherd the weak;
poison the wells.
Make them all drink
until the fix sells.

Secondhand Bullets

Don't be afraid to die,

by seconds, instead of bullets.
Throughout all of time,
we rewrite these vital moments.

Days and nights well-spent
negate all the time wasted;
like dirt smothers fires;
like truth coming from liars.

We built walls to protect!
We grow up to lose
all that we have to give!

We built walls to protect,
now rubble is all that is left.

In this Here and Now

Change often comes in many forms, and often these forms do not wait in line for one another to take place, or have a specific order in which they come; almost always, these changes set themselves upon the soul and alter it in ways that we not only need, but in ways I feel like most of us want in one way or another.

Take a snapshot of yourself in your mind. A picture of how you imagine yourself. What kind of person are you? What kind of person do you want to be? The wanting to change is what I'm talking about. Some people are able to change on the spot, with nothing more than shear force of will for a catalyst in the process, and they come out on the other side as better people; at least to their own eyes.

Some people are incapable of willingly changing, at least on the conscious level. I think I'm one of those. For starters, I'm using myself as an example for my own point that I'm trying to make...what does this say about me? That I'm often very self-involved, and, consequently, seem like a self-centered person in most lights. That's pretty much the truth; or at least it was. I changed, though...not by a shear force of will, but over period of time in which pressure was applied mentally, physically, and, specifically, emotionally.

That pressure, over time, began to alter the landscape of my personality: instead of caves and valleys, mountains began to rear their summits towards my inner-skies, which, in turn, were clearing up like an aged face will clear itself of acne. Rivers were running, and thought-fish, (what better way to explain a thought than through a fish?), were now in abundance.

It was a dramatic change.

It was not facilitated by me.

So that begs the question: who, or what, changed me?
God?
This could be argued, being that the change was generally for the good.
But I am more partial to this explanation: my subconscious changed my conscious mind for the better.
One can argue against the existence of a subconscious; could even argue that it is simply the workings of sociological theories on one's mind; such as this: perhaps over time, my mind picked up enough bits-and-pieces on how to apply several minute changes, over a period of one year, from television, radio, the internet, and other people as a whole.

Sure.
One could argue that.

But, really, who ever thinks of what they absorb on a conscious level?
Ask anyone. Take a poll. Make a survey and distribute it.
The answer will almost certainly be the same: nobody, (or at least something very close to nobody), does.

In this here and now, in this very moment, I have come to the realization that life is a series of circles; a series of cyclic pathes worn down to dirt in the fields of our minds; old roads that we make for ourselves over and over again, throughout our short-term lives. The vital question is this: will I break from the routine and run a straight route, fresh and unknown, to wherever?

Well, that's food for thought until the sequel is written, I suppose.

Things to remember:
Postitive Mental Attitude.
Nineteen is an addicting number (look for it, I dare you.)
Stories don't tell themselves.
The key to any one's heart lies in the power of art.

Sincerely yours'-
Miles